A Master Word
by Corrinth
Summary: What will happen, and how will Archer and the crew react when they receive a Master Word, an ultimate command that cannot be ignored, and things take an interesting twist when Malcolm gets a blast from the past who has a penchant for trouble.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek: Enterprise, plus all places and characters contained therein. The phrase "A Master Word" is borrowed from Rudyard Kipling's "The Jungle Books".

Author's Note: I came up with this idea over five years ago when walking home from lectures, I started writing it and posted 10 chapters before it lamely fizzled out. This is the second version of "A Master Word", I'm hoping to improve on the first – so let me know what you think?

The term "A Master Word", as mentioned in the disclaimer, is taken from Rudyard Kipling's "The Jungle Books". In these stories, a "Master Word" is a call or phrase given by an individual to a group or an individual of another species that cannot be ignored. Set early in Season Two, I thought it might be interesting to see how Archer and the crew reacted when they received "A Master Word" and a bit of a mystery. Here goes!

**Chapter One – A Master Word**

Captain Jonathan Archer flopped less than gracefully into a chair in the Captain's mess, red faced and panting heavily. He was exhausted. He glanced across as, looking much more refined and barely breathing heavily, Lieutenant Malcolm Reed pouring four tall glasses of water. T'Pol stood nonchalantly by the window, as calm and sedate as ever. With not a dark hair out of place, if she hadn't been in the gym with him, Archer would never have guessed that the Vulcan had been playing sport. However, just to boost his pride, the Captain of Enterprise was pleased to note that his Chief Engineer was looking just as worn out as Archer himself. Commander Charles "Trip" Tucker III appeared ready for a nap, his head lolling back and eyes closed. But the moment Reed replaced the jug on the table; Trip's head snapped upright and he reached for a glass – the contents of which he downed greedily before pouring himself another.

"Pretty good game, eh?" Malcolm laughed at his friend and colleague, comically saluting his associates with his glass.

"Not bad." Trip agreed, trying – and failing – to gulp down his second drink.

"I'd forgotten how exhausting squash could be." Archer agreed, taking up the remaining glasses and offering one to T'Pol. The Science Officer accepted both the water and the comment with a typical one-eyebrow-raised glance in her Captain's direction.

"I still fail to see the point in repeatedly hitting a small spheroid against a bulkhead." Was her stoic response.

The three men looked at each other, but decided to remain silent. They'd already had this discussion – arguments about keeping fit, improving hand-eye co-ordination and simply having fun had come from Archer, Reed and Trip respectively – both before and during their match, but their views had fallen on apparently deaf pointed ears. Trip shook his head in despair of what he called T'Pol's "Vulcanisms", prompting her to add to her comment with "But the experience was… entertaining."

The humans chuckled together, leaving T'Pol to wonder what they could possibly find amusing in her observation and to sip delicately at her drink. The conversation moved on to other sports, and the Vulcan turned to observed the stars streaming by as Enterprise flowed along at a less than sedate pace of Warp Three. By focusing on the gentle hum of the ship's well-kept engines, T'Pol was able to tune out the human's conversation, and so it came as a mild disturbance to her when the comm. sounded.

"Bridge to Captain Archer." Ensign Hoshi Sato's voice called for Archer's attention. The Captain rose from his chair with a groan, muscles well used over the last two hours already beginning to ache, to activate the comm. panel on the wall behind him.

"Archer here."

"Sir, a recorded message just arrived from Starfleet Headquarters for you. It has Admiral Forrest's code attached." The Ensign sounded curious, but Archer frowned a little. High-priority messages were unusual, and brought good news even more rarely.

"Prob'ly callin' to give ya the latest water-polo results." Trip chuckled. Archer gave Trip a sideways glance, smiling at the joke. Trust the engineer to break the momentary tension that Hoshi's news had caused with an untimely quip. Nevertheless, the Captain glanced back to the comm. panel. "Put it through to my quarters, Hoshi, I'll take it there."

"Aye Captain." Archer knew that his Communications Officer would already have turned back to her displays and would be tapping the relevant keys. The Captain released the button on the wall panel and turned to the others. "I hope you'll all excuse me?"

Without further word, Archer left his three most senior crew members to their own devices and headed to his quarters for a brief shower before picking up the message.

"Hello Jon. Apologies for not calling you in person, but I've been tied up with Sovaal again. Seems the Vulcans want to extend their compound in San Francisco, which isn't going down well with the locals."

"Not surprised." Captain Jonathon Archer told the screen uselessly. It wasn't like Admiral Forrest could hear him. He smiled at himself, but it had been a long week after all. Trip had been on about the deuterium reserves for a week now. It had been several months since their last pick up of the vital material, and Enterprise was running low again. Somewhat reluctantly, Archer focused his attention back on the screen.

"Anyway, I have some important information for you. Sovaal has told me that there's deuterium store on a planet approximately five light years from your current position. Course one zero three mark two. It's a small, little known planet called Miphon; the Capital is called Freedom. He assures me you'll find deuterium there, and at a decent trade price. Good luck."

Archer smiled. That should put Trip's mind at rest anyway. He reached out to fold down the screen, but it seemed that the Admiral's message hadn't finished yet.

"Oh, one more thing, if you hear the word 'Curion', contact me immediately, and I mean immediately. Is that clear? 'Curion.'"

"'Curion'?" Questioned Archer, staring at the screen in astonishment. If this 'Curion' was so important that he should contact Forrest at once, why tack it so carelessly onto the end of the message? But Forrest had signed off, and though Archer briefly considered calling him back, he guessed that Forrest didn't really expect him to come across this word anyway. The Captain sighed heavily; with the rigours of his squash game getting the best of him, Archer settled for instructing Travis to set course for Miphon. He would question Forrest next time he spoke to him.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek: Enterprise, plus all places and characters contained therein. The phrase "A Master Word" is borrowed from Rudyard Kipling's "The Jungle Books".

**Chapter Two – Searching**

Captain Archer spent much of the journey to Miphon in long discussions with his senior staff over the deuterium stores. How much they needed, storage facilities, what they could offer in trade, what price was reasonable… the talks went on and on, and by the time each day was done, Archer just wanted to forget about deuterium and everything associated with it. It was for this reason, as well as to give him some time to investigate 'Curion', that Archer allowed Trip and his boundless enthusiasm, along with Lieutenant Reed – the ultimate voice of caution and reason – to go down to Miphon's capital to obtain a shipment of the damn deuterium.

Three days hunting for something – anything – on the term 'Curion' brought Archer nothing but a headache and a stiff neck. With no luck on his own account, the Captain was forced to give up and let his remaining alpha staff in on his mystery. It had been a long three days, searching various sections of _Enterprise_'s database in vain. Thinking he'd call in to Sickbay and get a mild analgesic for his throbbing head, the Captain left his Ready Room and strolled onto the Bridge.

"T'Pol?" The Vulcan looked up from her scans of the planet's surface. Irritation settled on her face at the interruption, but no sooner had the expression surfaced than it was gone. Momentarily, Archer marvelled at how attuned he was to her now, how he had spotted that instantaneous frown. A year ago he would have missed it completely.

"Captain." She prompted him after a moment.

"Ever heard the word 'Curion' before?" She seemed to think carefully, then replied to the negative. Archer looked over to his Communications Officer. "What about you, Hoshi?"

"I don't think so." She answered clearly, piqued both by the word and this new mystery.

"Search the lingual database, would you? T'Pol, could you search the star charts? And Travis, the engineering database. Vulcan and Starfleet."

"Something up sir?" Travis asked. The Captain frowned in his direction, but Travis knew his Captain well enough by now to know that the scowl was at whatever mystery Archer was trying to solve, not at Mayweather himself.

"Perhaps." Archer answered, adding an honest shrug. "Until I find out what Curion is, I won't know."

Rubbing his neck, still sore from leaning over his computer terminal for hours on end, Jon made his way to Sickbay for that much-needed painkiller. And maybe he could pick the Denobulan Doctor Phlox's brain while he was there too.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Trip grinned laconically as they entered the bar. Despite the ropey lighting and dank conditions of the hovel they were entering, if they had to wait around for their contact - who hadn't even given them a name - then this was the place to do it. He hadn't been in a bar in for months, and intended to enjoy himself. This one was thumping with life and music, there had to be nearly a hundred aliens in this one tiny room. But one look at his companion and Trip knew that having a good time while they were here was not going to be easy. At his side, Malcolm was frowning deeply, clearly on edge as he gazed round the musty room.

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" The Englishman asked almost tentatively. He had to raise his voice to make himself heard.

"Look Malcolm," Trip answered slowly, as if talking to a less than intelligent cadet, "the guy told us to meet him here, an' meet him here we will."

"But he didn't even tell us his name!"

"It's a small planet!" Trip protested stoutly. "He prob'ly thought we already knew his name. It's no big deal."

"Hmmm." Reed uttered doubtfully. He had a funny feeling about that guy, and about this bar too. It felt like someone was watching him, but as he scanned the room quickly, nothing leapt out at him as dangerous. "And how many humans do you see on this planet?"

Trip raised his eyebrows at the Lieutenant and shrugged. He wasn't prepared to give up this chance to relax. True, it did strike him as a little odd, but his precious ship needed deuterium, and deuterium his was going to get. He ordered a couple of house drinks from a stumpy barman who looked vaguely human if you ignored the delicate layer of fur that covered the skin, before leaning against the bar and sighing. He trusted his own instincts, but then, he trusted Malcolm's too. And right now, the two were at odds.

Malcolm accepted his drink, sniffed it cautiously. It didn't smell of alcohol, but then, there was no knowing what the alcohol smelt like on this planet, or even if alcohol existed here… No, that was too much to think about right now. He sipped it carefully, not sure whether the stuff was going to be poisonous. It tasted strongly of blackcurrant, tangy but naturally sweet. Reed cocked his head slightly to Trip as a sign that the liquid was not unpleasant. But Malcolm could not relax, still plagued by the feeling that someone was watching him…

"Stop it, Mal." Trip ordered quietly. "Yer makin' me nervous."

"I can't help it." The Englishman protested, not looking at Trip. He took no pleasure in spoiling Trip's fun, but Malcolm was the type to always be on duty. He was the tactical officer after all, and the Engineer's safety was his responsibility.

"There ain't always gonna be some alien demon jumping out to kill us ya know." Tucker was saying when Malcolm tuned back in to his companion.

"I know that." Reed snapped, then sighed. "But sometimes there's suspicious characters about. Take the hooded character behind me for example." He had spotted the person on his last sweep of the bar.

"Hooded…" Trip allowed his eyes to drift up and over Malcolm's shoulder, stretching lazily for show. Malcolm was right, the person the Tactical Officer had referred to was stood leaning against one of the bar's grimy walls. The cloak he wore had a large hood that cast a vast shadow over the face, and was swathed about his body to hide any form of identifying features. The mud-coloured material ran right to the floor, distorting the character's height and making him look much more than his five feet ten tall. It could have been a member of Enterprise's crew under that thing and Trip would never have known, but even through the shadow, Tucker was aware of a pair of eyes boring into his.

Malcolm clunked his glass down onto the bar. Trip started, as if he'd been in some sort of daze, before taking a gulp of his own drink. "Now that you mention it, some of these characters do look kinda seedy." Trip shook his head before downing the rest of his drink. Malcolm quickly finished his too, using the action to take another covert visual sweep of the bar.

"More drinks?" An Andorian barman sidled up to them. Both humans nodded their assent, Trip using currency they'd picked up at the start of their mission to pay for them. As they sipped at the beverages, the two men chatted easily with the Andorian, levering him round to the regulars at the bar. Before ten minutes was up, they knew the genetic, health and criminal history behind a full half-dozen aliens in the bar.

"What about him?" Reed questioned the barman softly.

"Who?"

"Little brown riding hood over there." Trip prodded. "See much of him?"

"He's been around for a few weeks. Never speaks, just points out his drink and pays in currency. He's not your deuterium dealer, if that's want you want to know." The barman's antennae twitched confidently, as if he was pleased that he knew their business.

"No?" Trip accepted the information swiftly. It was a small city, in which news was always bound to travel fast, and two humans requesting deuterium were bound to stand out.

"No." The barman confirmed, moving to serve another customer. "Old Nota's another regular, and he's been in when that guy's in too."

The two humans waited for two and a half hours before 'Old Nota' finally turned up. The grey skinned alien, once he'd been plied with a few sly drinks, agreed to supply them with a thousand litres of deuterium for a quantity of medical and engineering supplies. Nota promised to deliver the deuterium to Enterprise the following morning before picking up his payment. It was all too easy.

"A job well done, I think." Trip raised his glass in self-toast, having just watched Nota stagger from the bar. Sat back in his chair, Trip allowed himself a moment of pure luxury. Malcolm raised his glass too.

"Not bad." He agreed half-heartedly. Upright and still alert, Malcolm wasn't prepared to give himself a break. Something still wasn't right. Reed noticed Trip frowning at him, and the Lieutenant shrugged when his Tucker asked him if he was still spooked. Looking round the room, both humans noted that their hooded figure had vanished. Trip prompted Malcolm again, obviously expecting an answer. "I'm fine. I suppose we should get back to Enterprise."

"Yer probably right." Trip agreed grudgingly.

He pushed his own drink aside. This one was too sour for his taste anyway. The two men glanced furtively around the bar again, but it had quietened down now. The barkeeper hailed them with a hand, silently asking if they wanted more drinks, and Reed shook his head, standing. He turned towards the exit – only to find his path blocked by the hooded figure they thought had left. He looked down on Reed, face still masked in shadow.

"Leaving so soon Malcolm?"


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek: Enterprise, plus all places and characters contained therein. The phrase "A Master Word" is borrowed from Rudyard Kipling's "The Jungle Books".

A/Note: Thanks for the reviews. Making slow progress with new chapters... very slow...

**Chapter Three – Old Flame**

Phlox greeted his Captain with a chirpy "Ah, good afternoon Captain!" and a typically inane grin. He finished feeding one of his many creatures before turning to take up a scanner as Archer described the pains he was suffering from. Given the choice of one of Phlox's more obscure therapies and a hypo-spray of painkiller, Jon opted for the latter. He rubbed the point of injection almost ruefully – the effect was almost instantaneous. Gone were the headache and the tension in his neck, but it did nothing for the sting of the injection itself. It was just a pity that a hypo-spray could not clear up the Curion mystery too.

"Was there something else, Captain?" Phlox questioned as the Captain lingered, his wide, amphibious smile prompting a half grin, half grimace from Archer. The Captain looked at Phlox, almost giving the whole thing up as a bad loss and going back to more regular duties, but when Phlox looked at him enquiringly, he sighed.

"Actually I was wondering if you could help me with a puzzle."

"A puzzle?" Phlox clearly relished the prospect.

So the Captain explained all about Forrest's message, how the piece about "Curion" had been so carelessly stuck on the end and yet was so important that its mention warranted immediate contact with Forrest. Phlox thought for a long time, could find nothing in his infinite wisdom on the term. He offered to search the medical database when the Captain told him that he'd set others searching other databases. Archer thanked the Doctor politely.

"I should warn you that I doubt the database will offer much help."

"I know." Jon sighed. "Let me know if you find anything at all."

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

The hooded figure laughed, making Reed start slightly. Whatever he had expected – maybe a threat or a demand, or even just a sudden attack – it wasn't a deep booming laugh at the look of shock on his face. How the hell did this person know his name? Instinct drove his hand to his phase-pistol, but as he half-drew it, the cloaked figure only laughed all the harder.

"Still as defensive as ever." Malcolm knew that the deep voice was faked, it was obvious that whoever had challenged them was having a joke at his expense. Reed scowled. He wasn't too keen on being toyed with.

"Who are you?" He demanded curtly, dropping his hand from his weapon. There seemed to be no immediate threat – surely if the hooded figure was going to attack, he would have done so already? But, always alert, Reed's body stayed tense and ready to duck aside. Just a little behind him, Trip was pretty much the same. "Why are you hiding behind that hood?"

The stranger blocking their path cocked his hood to one side, and although he could not see them, Trip could once again feel eyes boring into his. Up until that point, the Chief Engineer had been, if not happy then content, to take his cues from the Tactical Officer. But to be so openly scrutinised made Trip nervous, and the Engineer hated that. He stepped to Malcolm's side before speaking. "What d'ya want with us?" Both men were trying to get a look at the shadowed face, but the only thing they caught sight of was the bars dim light reflecting from a pair of eyes.

"Barkeep!" The voice, more normal now, with an authoritative edge that triggered something in Malcolm's memory, made both humans jump. Reed was sure, even as he resettled himself, he'd heard that voice before. But where…? Reed glanced sideways to the bar, also taking the opportunity to take a step back, and was amused to see the Andorian's antennae twitch in the direction of the cloaked figure before the rest of his head. "A round of drinks over here, and have one for yourself too!"

"Coming right up!" The blue alien grinned widely, looking very pleased with himself. Once one person had so openly offered him a drink, the regulars would feel obliged to offer him drinks. It was going to be a profitable night…

"Shall we sit down?" Both men knew it wasn't entirely a request. The Starfleet officers retook their table, while their new companion pulled up a third chair and gracefully sat down with them. Silence reigned while the Andorian brought their drinks. The stranger tossed him a large coin of the local currency and curtly dismissed him with wave of a hand.

"You never answered my question." Malcolm reminded their companion harshly when the barman was out of earshot. "Who are you, and how do you know me?"

The figure laughed heartily. "Would you believe me though?" The booming voice had lifted into a more normal one, as the hood was now lifted from the head, revealing a face badly disfigured by a harsh scar running from about an inch above the right ear, catching the corner of the eye and travelling down to right corner of the mouth that was twisted into a very mocking smile. But there was no denying that the face was human, female. Her blue eyes shone like sapphires, bright and somehow stark. But she was smiling fondly at Malcolm, clearly happy to see him, and Malcolm, despite his shock, started to laugh.

"Not sure I see what's funny."

Trip was frowning at that scar, wondering what on earth could have caused such a deep, calloused rent in her face. But at the sound of Malcolm's laughter, he began to shift his gaze from crew mate to their companion and back again. However, this display of confusion got him nowhere in terms of an introduction.

"What are you doing here?" Mal asked, obviously confused... "_How_ are you here?"

"Me? What the hell are you doing in this neck of the universe?" She grinned at Reed, the genuine smile of pleasure causing her face to lose its mocking look.

"I'm aboard a Starship - _Enterprise_ - have been for a year now."

"Tactical officer?"

"That's right." Mal looked at her curiously. "How did you know?"

"I always said you'd make it, didn't I?"

"And I had a tendency to doubt you." Reed grinned again. "So how did you get out here?"

"Like I told you I would, I hitched." She shrugged non-committally. "I caught a Denobulan freighter out to Denobula, from there another freighter out to… I forget where. I've been to so many different places, like you wouldn't believe." Her eyes shone at the memories their conversation brought up.

"Try me." Reed insisted.

"Another time." Jenna laughed, glancing towards Trip, who was practically jumping up and down in his seat, trying to get some attention. "Who's your friend?"

Reed looked towards Trip, whom he had almost forgotten was there. The engineer, eyebrows raised, waited to be introduced. Malcolm grinned again. "I'm sorry. Trip, meet Jenna Moreno. Jenna, this is Commander Charles Tucker III."

"Pleased to meet you." Jenna inclined her head. "And also sorry if I startled either of you. I just couldn't resist!"

"It's Trip." The Commander insisted quickly, reaching across to shake Jenna's hand. The hand was much softer than the face, but it was still hardened from work, the grip strong, firm but brief… and almost flirtatious. He grinned to himself. "So……… you two know each other?"

Jenna laughed as Malcolm started to go a strange shade of red. "You could say that we knew each other intimately." She flashed a meaningful look directly into Trip's eyes and dropped her own again. He laughed, more at Malcolm's expression than Jenna. The lieutenant was so obviously embarrassed. Jenna, sympathy for her old flame rising, quickly changed the subject. "Is your ship - Enterprise, did you say? - in orbit?"

"Sure is." Trip affirmed quickly.

"The thing is, I've been stuck here for nearly a month. I could do with a ride."

"I'll have ta check with the Cap'n, but I shouldn' think it'll be a problem." Trip told her, smiling at the thought of travelling with her.

"It would be good to catch up on old times too." Malcolm added quickly. Both Jenna and Trip laughed at this, and Malcolm's cheeks flushed a deeper red. "I didn't mean it like that." He protested.

"I know." Jenna replied softly. She reached out to grip his hand gently. "You're right, there's a lot to talk about."

"You goin' anywhere in particular?" Trip asked, so curious about how a lone human female could have survived for so long out here when _Enterprise _had run into so many hostile aliens.

"Wherever your engines care to take me, if your Captain agrees to have me along." Jenna shrugged softly, meeting Trip's eyes directly and smiling. "But the further away from Earth the better."

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

"Nothing." Phlox repeated. "I'm sorry Captain."

"Thanks for trying Doc." Archer sighed. "Archer out."

Archer sat back, slumping sullenly in his seat. Nothing. This 'Curion' was either nothing at all, or something that no one except Forrest knew about. He was about to call Hoshi and ask her to open a channel to the Admiral, but he was interrupted by the door chime.

"Come in." He called. The door slid aside to reveal Malcolm, and a human with a nasty scar that he was certain he'd never seen before. She looked somewhat……… scruffy. Her jeans were ripped at the knees, and her top was somewhat ragged. She looked as if she'd be in the wars too, with not just the big scar on her face, but also a network of small scars on one arm. "Malcolm?"

"Captain, let me introduce Jenna Moreno. She's……… an old friend. I was wondering if she might travel with us for a while."

"Travel with us?" The Captain repeated, but he didn't sound to Reed as if his attention was fully on the question at hand.

"I've been hitch-hiking across the galaxy." Jenna informed him almost proudly. She hung her head slightly. "And now I'm stuck. I could use a lift to the next planet with a biggish city……… if that's possible?"

"Captain?" Malcolm prompted when Archer didn't reply.

"Of course. Welcome aboard." Archer shrugged absently. He supposed his chat with Forrest would have to wait. He looked up at Malcolm's friend. "I'll have some quarters arranged for you. Perhaps you'd like to join some of my officers and I for dinner tonight?"

"Thank you Captain, it would be my pleasure." Jenna answered politely.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek: Enterprise, plus all places and characters contained therein. The phrase "A Master Word" is borrowed from Rudyard Kipling's "The Jungle Books".

A/Note: I have no idea how PADD's work – surely the darn things run on batteries??? Then again, maybe my pal Taith Ant was right, think I'll roll with the secondary idea. Batteries?? What were we thinking?? If this is wrong – so sue me!!! Just kiddin, let me know and I'll change!

**Chapter Four - Dinner**

Jenna watched the door close behind Malcolm, letting her eyes shut momentarily as it did so. Finally left alone with nothing more than her small holdall and her thoughts, Jenna found herself adrift; floating in an ocean of half-forgotten dreams and memories that belonged to a life she had long ago abandoned. Awash with emotions that she resented, she sank down onto the bunk, absently tracing a criss-cross of scars on the underside of her right arm. A moment's further introspection as she dug into her holdall brought Jenna face to face with old regrets that she had thought long dead – or at least buried deep down and beyond reach. But seeing him, watching him, hearing his voice again... Malcolm had unknowingly renewed old hurts and older yearnings, not unlike tearing a near-healed scar open afresh and letting it weep all over again.

The feelings passed, as they always did, switched off in her mind as her thumb switched on one of the PADD's she retrieved from her bag. Irritation flashed through her as the device beeped at her that the power was low. Hardly surprising considering the damn thing had been hidden in the darkness of her holdall, the solar panels being hidden from their primary power source – light. Sighing, she flipped up a panel on the small desk next to the computer terminal and sat the PADD snugly into the docking station contained within. By the time she was done with dinner, the damn thing would be powered again along with the reserve capacitors, and besides, she could download the somewhat simplified schematics of Enterprise and a few other bits and pieces while it was there. Jenna found herself surprised, as well as a trifle annoyed, by the wealth of information Starfleet gave _Enterprise_'s guests access to. Where was the challenge?

It felt good to have a long, hot shower whilst the information was downloading, despite the harsh, Starfleet issue soap and shampoo. It had been a long time since she had felt truly cleansed, and though the sonic shower whilst in decon had left her physically clean, Jenna doubted that anything but a real shower could clear her mind of the stench of Miphon. Grotty little planet. After stepping out of the coffin-sized bathroom attached to her boxed-size quarters, Jenna debated whether to don a smarter, black outfit rather than the clothes she had been wearing when she came aboard, but quickly denied the impulse. Let them see her as she was, and besides, her clothes had been cleaned whilst she was in decon with the others. And – Malcolm Reed having not changed a bit in all the time they had been apart – he'd not thought to offer her a change of clothing. Perhaps he'd considered Freedom the fashion capital of the universe, but in all her time there Jenna hadn't been able to find a single tailor. Having dressed, Jenna pulled her somewhat unruly hair back into a functional pony-tail and retook her seat at the desk to look through what information she'd found on _Enterprise_ and its systems.

Trip frowned as his terminal froze, interrupting his reading of the latest engineering tests from Earth. Though he had nothing to fear – it seemed that Enterprise still far outstripped anything else that Starfleet had come up with – the fact that he could read no more than another half-paragraph was more than a little irritating. He double checked the power feeds to the terminal then, in despair, re-booted the darn thing.

"Reed to Commander Tucker."

"Go ahead Malcolm." Trip slapped his monitor angrily, at a loss, the re-boot having done nothing to improve the state of affairs.

"Something just caused my diagnostic of the targeting systems to go off-line. I need a few minutes to investigate the problem and set up the diagnostic again." He sounded more aggrieved than angry to Trip, as if the diagnostic has failed just to spite him, but in reality – though Trip remained oblivious to it, Malcolm was actually wondering whether his next words were likely to be wise. "I was wondering if you could spare the time to show Jenna to the Captain's mess?"

"Sure thing Malcolm." Trip sat up straighter, already deciding to abandon the problem with his monitor for the time being. The engineer in him privately wondered if the two incidents were connected, but the rest of him didn't exactly give a damn. After all, his day had just brightened considerably. "It'll be my pleasure." And with that, he bounced of to grab a shower, clean himself up and change into a fresh uniform before dinner.

Within the anonymity of the armoury, grateful that his friend could not see him, Malcolm pulled a comical grimace and sighed. If Trip could pursue his obvious interest in Jenna and come out of it alive and almost in one piece, he'd be a lucky man. Reed knew this from experience – he'd been a lucky one himself.

Lieutenant Reed snuck into the Captain's Mess relatively undetected. A few minutes to sort out his problems with the armoury systems had stretched into well over half an hour. By the time he'd showered and changed, he was running fifteen minutes late for dinner. His face crimson as he entered the mess hall, he presented himself first to the Captain, then turned to look for Jenna. Catching sight of her talking to Trip across the room, Malcolm wished that Jen had at least changed for dinner. Belatedly, he wondered if he should have offered her some appropriate clothing. Considering the small size of the holdall she'd brought aboard with her, he supposed it didn't leave much room for formal clothes. She had, which he supposed she should be grateful for, at least showered and pulled her damp, chestnut brown hair back into a functional pony tail. But when she gave him that lop-sided grin, her sapphire eyes sparkling at him, his sullen mood melted away and he found himself grinning back at her.

Jen came to stand beside Reed as the Captain introduced his officers one by one. The scar twisted her face back into its resident mocking look as her grin faded whilst Archer introduced Subcommander T'Pol. Jenna raised her head slightly, returning the Vulcan's sweeping gaze with an arrogant expression. Both knew immediately that they would be at odds for the duration of their journey together. Archer recognised an animosity in Jenna that was similar to his own, though he could not imagine exactly what had caused her anger towards the Vulcans.

"This is Ensign Travis Mayweather." Archer offered next, gesturing to the young space-boomer. Jenna gave him a grin, shaking hands. Malcolm breathed a sigh of relief. At least there was someone she was bound to get on with, as both characters had a passion for space-travel and all things starship like. Archer brought Hoshi forward. "And this is Ensign Hoshi Sato."

"Pleased to meet you." Hoshi proffered a hand, but Jen did not fail to notice the snubbing gaze at her attire. Though forced to engage in a little small talk, Hoshi excused herself as soon as was politely possible. Jen shrugged to Malcolm when the young Asian Ensign had turned her back, seemingly undisturbed by Hoshi's rudeness. The lieutenant was frowning - it wasn't like Hoshi to act that way - but Jen seemed to have already brushed it aside. He took her arm gently and steered her towards her place at the table, suddenly just pleased to be around her again.

"So how long have you known Lieutenant Reed?" Archer asked Jenna after a somewhat strained silence, trying to make her feel at home. For a moment, as Jenna frowned, he thought she would not reply, but it seemed she was just considering her response.

"I suppose I first met him, what, four years ago?" She glanced at Reed sat next to her, who nodded.

"I was between assignments, and Jen here was in her second year at the academy." Malcolm continued their story when she paused. Neither seemed to wish to discuss their personal relationship, and all around the table recognised the pain their joint memories caused them when the pair glanced at one another then down at the table simultaneously. The subject was left to rest when neither Jenna nor Malcolm was inclined to continue, and another awkward silence ensued. As Jenna looked up to pick up her glass, she spotted Trip staring at the scar on her face. She smiled at him, laughing dryly.

"I ran into a Klingon." She answered the unasked question. "A Klingon with a Mek'Leth and a nasty temper."

"They're all somewhat temperamental, at least the ones we've run into were." Archer added, relieved that conversation was back on the menu. "May I ask what happened?"

"Not much. I accidentally bumped into the guy in a bar. He took offence, and a swipe at me. I ducked the blow but completely missed him drawing his weapon. I won't go into details - not with everyone eating." She grinned sardonically and pulled a face.

"Thanks." Malcolm responded quickly, relieved. Then he frowned. "How did you miss it? With all your training?"

"Trainin'?" Trip asked quickly, pleased to receive a glance in his direction.

"I dunno. I was tired, I guess." Jen answered Malcolm's question first. She looked back to Trip. She paused to count something off on her fingers. "I've been trained in seven martial arts. Shotokan Karate, Judo, Jujitsu, Tae Kwondo, Kendo, Aikido, and the Vulcan Martial Art - Sous-Menan."

"The Sous-Menan takes decades to master." T'Pol interjected suddenly at the mention of her race, indeed of a martial-art she was well versed in. "How did you accomplish it in such a short time?"

"I never said I'd mastered it." Jen shot back defensively. Malcolm, recognising Jen's rising temper even after all this time, laid a hand on the fist gripping her fork. She moved away from his touch, but relaxed a little. "I just said I'd been trained in it." Malcolm could almost see her physically biting back an insult to the Vulcan. He breathed an inward sigh of relief. At least she hadn't forgotten her manners.

"That's alotta fightin' skills." Trip offered, trying to break the tension. "Musta come in handy at some point."

"Several." Jen agreed, relieved not to be talking to T'Pol any more. "But again, they'd probably put you off your dinner."

"How come you don't work for Starfleet now?" Travis asked, suddenly breaking into the conversation.

Jen allowed her gaze to linger menacingly on the young man, making Travis wish he'd kept his mouth shut, but just as he thought she was going to bite his head off, her head dropped. "I never finished my training." She told the table in general, and there was no doubting her shame. "About two thirds of the way through the second year, I got kicked out."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I own none of the following characters, places or anything else.

A/Note:

**Chapter Five – On the Trail**

"At least let me walk you back to your quarters." Malcolm tried to insist, his hands resting lightly on the tops of her arms, but Jenna shook her head gently.

"I know the way." Her voice was low to avoid attracting attention, and she wouldn't – or couldn't – look him in the eye.

"They didn't mean any harm..." Conversation after Jenna's revelation had been stilted at best, and though she had known it would come up, Jenna didn't feel any more comfortable for the prior warning. Though not so rare for cadets to fail the exams, it was almost unheard of for one to be expelled. Earth's space programme was so young it took on none but the best. No one at the dinner table had had the courage to ask her why she'd been thrown out, for which Jenna was glad. Trip, Hoshi and Travis had all dropped their heads to stare at their food, whilst Archer had, at first, look surprised before shaking his head at T'Pol to stop her asking the obvious question. Jenna herself had gazed angrily round the table, daring them to ask her why, but once again Malcolm's hand on hers had calmed her.

"I know." She forced a smile, one that turned out to be more of a grimace thanks to her twisted scar. "Please, Malcolm, I think I just want to be alone for a while."

"Goodnight, then." For some reason, now more than ever, Malcolm found himself full of pity for her.

"G'Night." He watched her leave, her head hung slightly for a few paces, then she put on her mask once more, straightening herself and raising her head. He knew from experience that her face would be set into a not-quite frown. She paused only once at the door, to give him a smile and a quick wave, which was more than she had done the last time he'd watched her walk away from him.

Jenna breathed a heavy sigh when she entered her quarters and the door slid shut behind her. Such a relief to be away from the prying eyes of those around her. She almost pitied Malcolm, that she was forced to put him through all this again. The questions, she had expected, but not the venom with which the _Enterprise_ senior crew now regarded her. Ostracised from them by the knowledge that she had failed to complete the training that had allowed them all to become not only serving Starfleet officers, but members of the crew of its flagship. And though life had given her a different path, Jenna felt more alone in those few moments than she had in the last four years, since leaving Malcolm, and Earth, behind. Her PADD, still set in the docking station, bleeped once, interrupting both her thoughts and her melancholy.

Malcolm returned to the armoury for the lack of anything else to do. He had – stupidly? - expected to spend the early part of the night catching up with Jenna. He'd even hoped that they would, but now that she had returned to her quarters alone and clearly rejecting his company again, Malcolm had, in turn, refused Trip's offer of a friendly ear. Yet he did not feel inclined to return to his own cabin, and so he had gone to check on his diagnostic. It was nearly complete, his terminal flashing up a growing report.

Malcolm sat himself down to wait while it finished, and flipped up the first part of the report to go through. Soon engrossed in the facts and figures, he made a few notes on a PADD, already preparing the necessary calculations to improve his precious weaponry's accuracy. Needless to say, the Lieutenant was a little taken aback when the words "Diagnostic cancelled" flashed up on the screen. Reed blinked, startled, then gazed hard at the screen as if it had made some form of gross mistake. Again? How could the damn thing cancel itself again? He cursed vehemently, trying to claw back the data that had been lost, but it was irretrievable.

"Reed to Commander Tucker." Malcolm had waited until his colourful vocabulary had subsided before making the call to the chief engineer.

"Go ahead." Trip sounded tired, but Reed was too confused and too peeved to notice.

"Could you come take a look at something in the Armoury?"

A pause followed, and when he finally agreed, Trip's voice came across as a bit of a groan. The Commander had been looking forward to getting a good night's sleep after stuffing himself on chef's steak and chips, but duty called. A few minutes later, and he was buried deep in trying to find the fault with Reed's diagnostic equipment. The two men discussed the problem at hand, carefully avoiding the topic of Jenna and anything to do with dinner whilst Trip called up the log on Reed's original diagnostic, the latest attempt, as well as when he'd lost the data on the reports he'd been reading in Engineering. "Ah, see, there it is! All three were terminated by an override. Command Alpha-Omega."

"Whatever that is." Reed glanced at Trip, his expression puzzled. "Any idea how we can find out who issued it?"

"Me?" Trip almost laughed. "Naw... but I know a Vulcan who might!"

T'Pol was in her customary position on the Bridge when Trip and Malcolm tumbled out of the turbo-lift, obviously in heightened emotional states. She raised an eyebrow as the Commander started to babble at her about some form of code. She regarded him as coldly as ever as he explained the situation, setting about tracking the origin of the code when he had finished speaking without so much as a word, finally commenting that she would be able to track where the code had been issued but not _who _had done so. "Although I would expect that the location will give an indication of their identity." She finished. As the computer did it's work, T'Pol studied the results closely. "This particular code would seem to be some form of command code. It has disrupted not only your diagnostics, Lieutenant, but also a number of minor ships systems that may otherwise have gone undetected."

"No kiddin'." Trip had to smile, by now recognising T'Pol's stoicism as concern for _Enterprise's_ well-being.

"Did it do any damage?" Reed asked, frowning at T'Pol's words.

"No permanent damage has been done, though I believe a malfunction in the drinks dispenser in the mess hall may have caused some alarm amongst the crew."

Remembering several instances when the drinks dispenser had emitted certain brown, green and other nauseatingly coloured gloopy substances, Trip and Malcolm had to share a grin, at least until the computer gave a subtle bleep to alert the Subcommander that the programme she'd run had completed it's objective. T'Pol accessed the result, then glanced up at Reed with a glance that was something akin to pity. It didn't take a genius to work out where the code had come from, and the Lieutenant turned away from the science station to head for the turbo-lift.

"Mal..."

"I'll deal with this." His voice was taught with the emotions he refused to express in front of his colleagues and friends. "Subcommander, would you be good enough to call the Captain, have him meet me at her quarters?"

"Maybe I should come with ya?" Trip suggested gently, obviously concerned for his friend.

"No, thanks." Reed entered the turbo-lift, every movement as tight as a coiled spring. The door closing behind him was little relief, though Malcolm allowed himself to ball his fists at his side as the turbo-lift whisked him towards the source of his fury and, worse, his betrayer.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Jenna knew that someone had traced the source of her command code, the computer had flashed up a warning the moment T'Pol had begun searching for its origin. Somehow, she instinctively knew that it would be Malcolm who came for her, who else would it be, except possibly the damned Vulcan? Yet it was fitting, she pondered as she shut down everything that he might demand access to, that it should be him. So much left unsaid, left undone. Years ago, she might have worried over what he would think of her, agonised over her betrayal of his trust. That had been the fear of her superiors, for it was unheard of to place an agent in the sort of situation where they might be compromised by old friends and old ties, when they had assigned her this mission, but both her years of training and other moments from her past served to deny any such thoughts and feelings, though they could not stop the flicker of shame that passed over her face as Lieutenant Reed entered her quarters.

Reed had over-ridden the door locks and entered her quarters unannounced, his face twisted in silent fury, with every intention of blasting her with a series of interrogating questions, but to see her stood waiting for him, dressed in a black Starfleet uniform, her leather jacket emblazoned with the Starfleet logo high on her right breast and sleeve, checked any words the Lieutenant might have said. Instead he simply gaped at her, confused but unable to look away. She said nothing to him, merely returning his gaze with a calmness that exuded a confidence in herself.

Finally, the Lieutenant managed to pull himself together enough to walk past her to the tiny desk where he flicked on one of the PADDs that lay there. It contained the information that she had downloaded from _Enterprise_'s systems and as he glanced through the information that was available to all her guests, hope flashed through him that they might yet have made a mistake... that hope was dashed as he came across the personnel files of all those who currently served aboard _Enterprise_, as well as detailed schematics of the ship. He put a second PADD on the top of the first and tried to switch it on, but it was password protected and refused him access. He held it out to Jenna coldly.

"Activate it." He almost choked on the order, his voice tight and cold.

"I can't do that." Her tone was gentle, masking the harshness that could be read in her eyes as her gaze turned hard.

"Activate it."

"The data stored on it is classified information, Lieutenant." Her tone became business-like as she spoke his rank, turning away from everything that had once been between them. "You cannot read it."

"Classified!?!" Malcolm stormed, spitting the words at her furiously, her refusal angering him more than ever and causing his tongue to loosen. "Classified? You use me to get aboard _Enterprise_ in some damn fool charade that has made me look like a first-class idiot in from of my crew-mates and now you tell me it's _classified_? Who are you Jenna? Because I'm not sure I know you any more... if I ever did."

"Malcolm..." She was hurt by his bitterness, by the way he spat her name like a piece of dirt, but instinctively understood it. "I told you once that I hoped one day I could tell you the truth about all this. That day will come... soon."

"Why not right now?"

The door slid aside again to admit Captain Archer. Have received a scant run down on the situation from T'Pol, Jon was more confused than anything else... one minute he simply had a passenger on board his ship, the next he had someone brandishing an ultimate command code and subtly screwing up _Enterprise'_s systems. And now he came face to face with his guest who was wearing a Starfleet uniform? Yet his scrutiny of Jenna was a little closer than Lieutenant Reed's, and he caught three letters that Reed had missed stitched under the logo on her sleeve.

"SAS?" Archer chuckled bitterly, a rueful smile twitching the corners of his mouth. "Why has the Starfleet Ancillary Service got an agent aboard my vessel?"

"Sir?" Reed turned from glowering at Jenna to frown at his Captain, confused by the term, having never heard it before.

"The SAS does Starfleet's dirty work, Lieutenant. Rumour has it that one of the most prominent Vulcans who was aboard the ship that made first contact with us one hundred years ago was bumped off by the SAS."

Jenna said nothing to this, simply rolling her eyes in comic dismissal of the rumour. The rumour was probably true enough but Agent Moreno was in no position to confirm or deny it. She watched Archer's face closely – did the Captain think she was here to _assassinate_ him or his crew? The Captain regarded her just as closely. "I'll ask you again, Agent, what does the SAS want aboard my ship?"

"There's only one thing you need to known, Captain." Jenna said the words calmly, ingnoring the question that Archer had spat at her. She smiled coldly, her sardonic expression only increasing. "Curion."


End file.
